


Strangers in the godswood

by Nary



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Biting, F/M, Fingerfucking, Future Fic, Nipple Play, Outdoor Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Reunions, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winterfell had burned but its godswood still stood, boughs glistening with the night's snowfall. Jon was surprised to find someone there. Her face was shadowed in the half-light, angular and calm and strangely familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers in the godswood

Winterfell had burned but its godswood still stood, boughs glistening with the night's snowfall. Jon was surprised to find someone there. Her face was shadowed in the half-light, angular and calm and strangely familiar. "Jon?" Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, but she smiled at him, and in that moment he recognized Arya. In the next, they were wrapped in each other's arms. Their breath clouded the crisp morning air.

His "Where have you been?" tumbled over her "Why aren't you at the Wall?" They laughed, awkwardly, and he said "You go first. Mine is a long story."

"Well, so is mine," she said, screwing up her face in the way he remembered from their childhood.

"I was afraid I'd never see you again."

"I wasn't. Everywhere I travelled, you were always in the back of my mind. I knew I'd find you eventually." She rested her head against his chest, the soft fur of his cloak against her cheek. "Do you know what I missed most?"

"Me?"

The girl he had grown up with would have given him a playful swat for his presumption. This stranger in his arms just shrugged. "You, yes, and the snow." Delicate flakes were drifting down from the branches overhead, and she turned her face up to receive them, closing her eyes in half-remembered childlike bliss.

"Little sister," he began, then stopped, uncertain how to proceed.

"Yes?" She pulled off one of her gloves and reached up to touch his face with her bare hand. Her fingers felt hot against his skin, as if a flame was kindled inside her. _Kissed by fire_ , he thought, for in truth there was something about her that brought Ygritte to his mind, unbidden.

Best to just tell her quickly. "I've learned the truth. Father – your father – wasn't my fa--"

Arya stopped his mouth with those smoldering fingers. "Please, don't." She was shivering, or maybe trembling, so Jon brought her into the warmth of his cloak. "You're the only brother I have left. Don't take that away from me too. Not yet, not when I've just found you again."

She was less than a whisper away from him, and so warm, and it had been so long since he'd held a woman in his arms, and she wasn't truly his sister, or even his half-sister… Jon's lips met hers, innocently enough at first, but then her tongue was in his mouth, and his was in hers, and he didn't know which of them acted first, or at least that was what he told himself as her hands worked their way up under his tunic and he buried his fingers in her short, tousled hair.

He unclasped his cloak and threw it to the ground, fur-side-up and spread wide. Arya practically dragged him down on top of her in her haste, and he fell willingly, fumbling with his belt. "Hurry," she gasped, wriggling out of her pants like a snake from its skin.

The cold air nipped at them, but they hardly felt it. Jon's hand slid up the inside of her thigh, feeling unfamiliar scars, hard muscles, and then her hot, slick cleft. The fire inside her kindled in the dry tinder of his heart, which had lain ash-cold for so long. _Not my sister_ , he told himself again as he parted her inner lips with a sweep of his fingers. His sister had been a little girl when last he saw her, and this was a woman grown, some stranger whose face mirrored his own.

She bit his lower lip as he thrust into her, making him cry out. He shoved her shirt up, exposing her small breasts to the winter air. They bristled with goose bumps, and Arya moaned as he covered one with a hand and the other with his mouth. Her nipples were hard as pearls between his fingers, under his tongue.

Arya's hips pushed eagerly against Jon's with each stroke. Slender legs at the small of his back urged him faster, as if he needed the encouragement. A desperate groan tore from his throat and he buried his face in her shoulder, but her hand gripped his chin and forced him back up until his eyes met hers. "See _me_ ," she commanded, and he did, for the split second before his vision blurred and he came into the woman who would always feel like his sister in his heart, no matter what the truth might be.

They lay still together for as long as they could bear it. Each panted breath sent up clouds of vapour, which drifted like unheard prayers beneath the weirwoods.


End file.
